


when the lights go out (will you take me with you?)

by Pidonyx



Category: Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys - My Chemical Romance (Album)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, THE KILLJOYS ARE NOT MCR, by how short the amount of time between me posting is, eat hot chip and lie. anyways, featuring references 2 smoke bcs y not, idk how 2 b interesting all i do is write gay shit, jus some good old fashioned uhhhh making out in a car what ELSE would it BE, you can gauge how stressed i am
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-05-16
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:02:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24214117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pidonyx/pseuds/Pidonyx
Summary: It’s been a pretty nice fucking evening, in Poison’s opinion.
Relationships: Fun Ghoul/Party Poison (Danger Days)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 55





	when the lights go out (will you take me with you?)

**Author's Note:**

> one brain cell and it says write things as a reward for finishing my homework. i mean i also had a mug cookie but this was part of me giving myself positive reinforcement 
> 
> you already know how this works here u go
> 
> title from summertime by mcr bcs that song is so romantic it makes me cry lmao

It’s been a pretty nice fucking evening, in Poison’s opinion. They’d been at a party in Zone 3, because NewsAGoGo had invited them and Poison had — with only a few kisses and eyelash bats and coy little smiles, and Ghoul calling him a dirty cheater with his fingers tangled in Poison’s hair — persuaded Ghoul to come. Their resulting presence at said party had been essentially worthless, given that the first and only thing Poison had done was wind his arms around Ghoul’s neck in a shadowed corner of the dance floor and stick his tongue in his mouth, where they’d stayed until Poison had grinned against Ghoul’s throat and said “hey, baby, wanna get outta here?” which,  _to be fair_ , was not an unexpected thing for Party Poison to be doing at a NewsAGoGo party. This had been, though, the first one he’d been to in a while, and the first one since kissing Ghoul for the first time in the driver’s seat of the ‘Am ,  and he’d been jittery the entire drive from the Diner to the shuttered warehouse Newsie had commandeered for her party. Right now, where they are curled up in the Trans Am’s back seat with Poison in Ghoul’s lap, it feels a hell of a lot like that night, except now he can just tilt his head up and kiss Ghoul whenever he wants to. He feels warm and a little sleepy and stupid, and Ghoul’s mouth is fucking  _wonderful_. 

He leans away a little, enough that he can see Ghoul’s eyes twinkling at him, and the candy-pink lipstick smeared across his lips and dragging down his neck and chest in reverent open-mouth marks. Poison knows the same color is smudged down his own chin and against the corner of his mouth and he can’t help but feel a little spark of pride, just a flash of delight, because he knows everyone at the party saw.  _Mine_ , he thinks giddily, and he traces his lips over one of the prints, at the curve of Ghoul’s collarbone. 

“Love you,” he says. His eyes drift upwards, to where Ghoul’s lips are pretty and bruised under the coat of Poison’s lipstick. “Y’know that, don’t you? I love you, love your mouth, fuckin’ beautiful, Ghoulie.” He raises a hand, runs his thumb against Ghoul’s lower lip, over where his mouth is tilting into a smile. 

“I know, Pois. Love you too.”

It’s not the first time they’ve said it, but the darkness wrapping around them like a blanket, the fact that it feels so very much like the first time they kissed, paired with the fact that Poison’s still riding the high from the party, the adrenaline rush of holding Ghoul’s hand and signaling to all the ‘joys present  _look at me, look at how lucky I managed to get_ makes it feel like a pretty big fucking deal. Poison fits their mouths together again carefully, feeling a little bit like he really is kissing Ghoul for the first time again, shaky heartbeats beating an unsteady rhythm against his ribcage. Ghoul kisses him slowly, languid and sugar-sweet, tongue and lips and gentle teeth, and Phoenix Witch, if Poison-from-a-year-ago could see him now.

“D’ you remember when I used to offer t’ share my mattress, ‘n’ I said it was ‘cause I had th’ biggest one ‘n’ you didn’t have one yet?”

Ghoul grins, and Poison gets the feeling he knows the reason why without him even having to say it, but he smiles back and says it anyways. 

“It was ‘cause I liked you and I didn’t wanna say it at th’ time.”

That’s not quite true, but it makes Ghoul laugh, and that always makes Poison happy (the first time he’d ever gotten Ghoul to laugh, it had been during a clap with Korse and his squad of Dracs, when Poison had said something stupid about his ruffled shirt that hadn’t even been that funny, but Ghoul had snorted, trying to cover it up with a cough, which consequently made Poison so flustered he’d misaimed his raygun and almost taken the paint off the side of the Trans Am). In this moment, though, it doesn’t feel nearly as bad to remember (selfishly) asking Ghoul if he’d maybe like to share a bed, being breathless at the answer being “okay” even if Ghoul had looked suspicious at the offer, lying only a few feet away and watching Ghoul’s relaxed face as he slept, mouthing _I_ _love you_ over and over at the ceiling in a vain attempt to ease the saccharine-aching pull in his chest, thinking he would never in a million years get more than that. 

Ghoul presses their foreheads together, carding a hand through his hair. “You’ve got your thinking-too-hard face on.” His tone is teasing but his eyes are concerned, and Poison brushes away the clinging cobwebs of past memories to focus on the present moment. 

“Sorry,” he says, meaning it. He grins lopsidedly. “Jus’...remembering.”

“Don’t then,” Ghoul says, mischievous sparkle back, the dim lighting turning his eyes from soft brown to a otherworldly midnight blue. 

“Affirmative,” Poison quips back, holding back a grin when it makes Ghoul give him a deadpan stare, and bites Ghoul’s lower lip hard. 

“God, fuck you,” Ghoul says, the corner of his mouth twitching, and he tugs Poison back in, moving their mouths together for a few moments. When he breaks away, it’s to smirk again, running his fingers over Poison’s hip. “Y’ can’t say shit like that ‘round Jet ‘n’ Kobra or they’re gonna think we’ve been replaced by ‘Crows.”

Poison drags his nose against the side of Ghoul’s neck, nuzzling into the skin there. He smells like creamy lipstick and the shitty non-alcoholic fruit punch from the party, with the underlying hint of citrus that Poison has come to identify as just Ghoul. “‘S the joke, baby.”

“ _I_ know that, but to everyone else we just sound fuckin’ crazy.” He pinches Poison’s side, eliciting a very undignified yelp and earning a halfhearted slap in response. 

“You’re no fun.” Poison licks his neck and Ghoul digs his knee into his ass. 

“ _Stop_ that,” he says, but he’s grinning, and he snaps his teeth against Poison’s throat in retaliation, which unfortunately — at least when it comes to Poison’s ability to get the last word in — has the effect of making Poison’s brain jump the tracks completely and he forgets all about any kind of revenge in favor of yanking Ghoul down by his shirt collar. 

For a bit, it’s just warm hands against his waist and soft little breaths in his ear and Ghoul’s mouth hot and unhurried on his, and in a perfect world Poison would get to kiss Ghoul until either the sky came crashing down or Destroya returned and razed Battery City to the ground. This isn’t a perfect world though, and they’re interrupted — pretty  _rudely_ , from Poison’s point of view — by a rap on the window. 

Poison turns to  _glare_ at the person who interrupted them, who turns out to be Hot Chimp, an only-sort-of-apologetic smirk on her face. Ghoul leans over to roll the window down, and she leans through, resting on her elbows. “Sorry to bother you guys,” she says, smile growing. “Was looking for Newsie an’ saw your car still here.”

“Haven’t seen her in a bit,” Ghoul says, like they weren’t just caught with their hands up each others’ shirts. “You checked the back room with all th’ neon lights? She was ‘n there earlier, think she had a card game started.”

“No, I haven’t. Thanks, I’ll look there.” Chimp ducks her head to back out of the car, smiling another wide cheeky grin at the pair of them. “Seeya later. I’ll let you guys get back to it.”

Ghoul blows a puff of air against Poison’s throat that’s probably a laugh, and Chimp waves at them as she backs away, turning to jog towards the warehouse.

“Y’know she’s probably going to do the exact same thing with Newsie,” Ghoul says, still sounding like he’s holding back laughter for Poison’s sake. 

Poison snorts, pressing his face into Ghoul’s chest. “Yeah. Still doesn’t mean I wanted her t’ interrupt.” He looks up, grinning. “I mean, it was just getting good.”

Ghoul smacks his shoulder, sitting up properly. “Jackass. ‘S getting late anyways, we should get back to th’ Diner ‘fore Kobes an’ Star think we got dusted.”

Poison sighs. “Fine. But only ‘cause you said it first.”

Ghoul pats his cheek, dimple reappearing in his own. “Doesn’t mean we can’t do it again when we get back.‘N we’ll actually have a bed an’ shit.”

Poison brightens. “Oh, yeah.”

Ghoul laughs again, kisses the corner of his mouth. “C’mon, I can’t get up when you’re sitting on me.”

Poison crawls awkwardly out of his lap, getting the door open and stumbling slightly in the sand as he gets out of the car. On the other side, Ghoul’s door slams and they shuffle around to the front seats. As Poison adjusts the mirror, he catches Ghoul’s eye, smiles, sees Ghoul smile back. 

“Kiss for the road?” He says hopefully, delighting in the fact that it earns another crow of laughter, and even more in that Ghoul leans across the center console to kiss him firmly. He pulls away slowly, like he’s also reluctant to stop, mumbling “deja vu” as he does so, and Poison knows he’s not been the only one thinking about that night this whole evening. 

He winds their fingers together, squeezing briefly before letting go to turn the key in the ignition. Before he presses down on the gas pedal, though, he turns to look at Ghoul’s face, backlit by the moon in an oh-so-familiar way, his pretty features luminescent in the dark and snaking curve of scar tissue splitting the pale contours of his cheek. 

“I love you,” Poison says, again, a little shakily. Ghoul finds his hand again, lifts it to his mouth to press a kiss to his fingers. He meets Poison’s eyes, expression serious, but still soft. 

“I love you too.” He taps the wheel gently. “Let’s motor.” He winks, lightening the mood instantly, and when Poison finally gives the ‘Am some gas, pulling out of the flat expanse of sand serving as a makeshift parking lot in front of the abandoned warehouse, Ghoul leans against his shoulder, a warm strip of contact up Poison’s arm. 

It’s a long drive home, but Poison doesn’t really mind. He’s got good company.


End file.
